Monday, April 14, 2008

The cuckoo

The cuckoo is a merry bird, she sings as she flies,She brings us good tidings and tells us no lies;She sucks the sweet flowers to make her sing clear,And she never sings "cuckoo" till summer is near.

O meeting is a pleasure, but parting a grief,An inconstant lover is worse than a thief;For a thief will but rob you and swear to be true,And the very next moment they'll bring you to the grave.

The grave it will rot you and bring you to dust,There is not one in twenty young men girls can trust;They will kiss you, and court you and swear to be true,And the very next moment they'll bid you adieu.

Come all you young women wherever you be,Build your nest in the top of a tree;For the leaves they will wither, the branches decay,And the beauty of fair maids will soon fade away.

To Die No More

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To Die No Moreis an artist's book about the marvelous embroideries of death taken from many sources both known and long forgotten.170 fragments - from Aries to Wittgenstein - collected and edited by Herbert Pfostl and Kristofor Minta with splintersby Kristofor Minta, ruins, appropriated by James Walsh, and small paintings of shipwrecks,animals, and ashes by Herbert Pfostl.Made with great care and sober like a good dream.Dedicated to the deeply dead and the truly living.2oo pages text - 25 color images$25.00

pony credo

An idea of books from a yearningto counter the all-polluting imagery-machineswith parables of plants and animalsand old storiesof black robbers and white stags.Fragments on death like mirrorsfrom a black sleepin the forests of fairy tales.All stories from the dust of the deadin fragments and footnoteslike melodies of heartbreakand north and night and exploration–breakdowns.About saints with no promise of heavenand lost sailors forgottenand the terribly lonely bears.The unknown, the ugly – and the odd.Collected grand mistakes,noble errors from many sources.Sinking signals - conscious or not – sonatas and last lettersand great insults.The impossible tears in landscapesof ocean or stranded whales.A going far back to coalsand cruelties and sobbinglike songs in whiskey and blood.Of soldiers’ last letters and all seven seas.With pirates and wars and prayers in holes in the ground.Of fallen women and orphaned childrenand drowned slaves and burned saints.To make songs from doubtand books to live by.